


Galactic Buccaneers

by skeletonsmama



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Gen, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletonsmama/pseuds/skeletonsmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fantine and her daughter Cosette are the most wanted pirates across the seven galaxies. Feuilly is their repairman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Galactic Buccaneers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [genarti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/genarti/gifts).



> You mentioned something about a space pirate family and I may have...run with it. Merry Christmas, I do hope you enjoy what I've produced :)

The call comes in just before noon. It's still alternating between pouring rain and blazing sun, and Feuilly's mostly sure that RatBats made their way into the weather generator again.

It's Cosette who appears on screen, face smudged with grime and charcoal.

"Feuily! I'm glad you're there. Are you busy? I hope not because we seem to have...how do I put this, vaporised an external thrust mechanism."

Feuilly doesn't even have the decency to look surprised.

"You two should start being more careful. That means _not_ deliberately provoking the Governs."

Cosette huffs a long suffering sigh. "Yes Feuilly, that and change the electrocarbonic fluid more regularly. Do you have the parts we need?"

"I salvaged a batch last week. T153 model right?"

"You're my favourite. See you in a jiffy." She smiled sweetly, her customary sign off before the pod-screen in front of him goes blank.

***

"Feuilly dear, how are you?"

"Wonderful, Fantine."

The thing about Fantine, Feuilly thought, is that no one ever expected her to be anything much, let alone the most successful pirate across the seven inhabited galaxies. They'd met before all the fame and the glamour; her vessel was falling to pieces around her and his shop was the only place that stocked junk parts in a 1000 gammar radius. She'd landed - crashed - and had been close to begging Feuilly for help. There had been a little slip of a child peeking out of a porthole, and her desperation showed in everything from the state of the ship to the sharp outlines of her cheekbones.

The shop was smaller, older than most in the galaxy, it's lack of proximity to the AlphaStation Port making it less than popular. It was decent, yes, well-stocked too, but its facilities in desperate need of a touch up.

So instead the one who came to be known as the most fierce pirate to cross the galaxies struck a deal.

"You seem quite lovely, really. Are you able to repair my ship? I believe I could manage, but not particularly well and I'd like not to have to make another stop like this anytime soon. We're in a hurry, you see. There are people after us, the most unsavoury people. If you do this for me now I'll see that you're repaid. Are you willing? I don't wish to steal from you but I will if I must."

Feuilly had taken the deal.

It took a day to repair the ship ( _"If you change the oil product used here more frequently then it shouldn't happen again. Also, RatBat repellent. Please."_ ) and he thought as they flew off he'd probably never see either of them again.

Unless, of course, it was their heads on the pikes of the Governs, as tended to happen with illegal travellers.

How wrong he'd been, with Fantine dropping by again within a month. His superior seemed less than impressed, but at a quick glance at Fantine's newly acquired collection of knives and pistols (old weapons, yet still more effective against humans, androids and sentient gas clouds than anything created to date) hurriedly sent Feuilly to lunch and retreated to the office.

The visits had continued, well after the debt had been repaid. Soon, the child, who he came to know as "Euphrasie, but I prefer Cosette." and himself grew close, Fantine even trusting him enough eventually to leave her in his care as she took on a particularly bad raid.

She was 16 by that point,and inevitably, utterly indignant at being given a babysitter.

She kept quiet when her mother came back, limping and bloody and trying desperately to smile through it.

But that is a story for another time.

Fantine was looking exasperatedly at the ship as Feuilly surveyed the damage while simultaneously catching up with Cosette.

"Oh Feuilly, I met this wonderful boy. Equally as illegal as the both of us. Or at least, I think he is. He was going to one of the new political meetings. Looked a bit lost though, but that may have been my fault. He is quite wonderful. Mama isn't too pleased, but you know how she is."

Feuilly nodded thoughtfully, taking out a rounded hammer and checking the state of the remaining engines.

"What was his name? I've not been to many meetings myself yet, but most groups tend to be quite small, intimate. I might have seen your new beau around."

At this Cosette blushed, dropping down from her perch at the side of the ship.

"I didn't catch a name, exactly. And he's certainly not my _beau_. Not yet, at least."

Their conversation ceased as Fantine rejoined the pair of them.

"It is repairable, isn't it?"

Her furrowed brow gave away the worry she'd usually hide, concern for her ship higher than Feuilly had ever seen it before.

"I'll try my hardest. She won't run the same, unfortunately. Patching engines up leaves bad enough scars, vaporising one is nearly a death sentence. The other three are at almost full functionality, physically at least, which might give you a month or so. The sentience in the back engine probably isn't too happy. My best recommendation would be to find a builder and invest in a new ship. Sorry Little Lark," he used the nickname for the ship, slapping the hull twice, "you lived a good life."

When he looks over at Fantine and Cosette they’re biting back tears. This had been their ship for the last seven years, a mighty long time even for the majesty such as that of The Lark. It had taken them through good bad and much in-between. As damaged as she got ( _very_ damaged, at times), the engines had always been more or less functional. To have one taken out at the hands of the Governs, no less, was a tragedy indeed.

“The spare beds still have your name on them, as always. I can recommend a ship builder if you’d like. He’s trustworthy as I am, and while his work isn’t the best of the best, he knows what he’s doing. I have to go out for a few hours soon, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“You’re not going to one of those meetings, are you?” Fantine says.

“Your future shipbuilder happens to go to those meetings. Unless you’d care to find one yourself which you’re more than welcome to.”

Fantine ponders. “Bring him back, I’d like to meet him first.”

***

“Combeferre, would you mind hanging back a tick?”

“Of course Feuilly, what can I do for you?” He pauses for a moment wiping a rag over his hands in habit.

Combeferre is perhaps the most approachable of the holy triumvirate who lead the organization (if you could call it as such; their tenth member joined today, and they were yet to do anything beyond intensive planning). Though he could snark anyone into leaving the room with their tail between their legs, not always metaphorically, he was always more than friendly should your conversations not stray into debates. Yet no so friendly as Courfeyrac, whose passion could terrify and his friendliness leave you a little too drunk and possibly indecent than you’d prefer.

“I’ve got a friend of mine in need of a new ship, preferably sooner rather than later. It’s a tall order, which is my main concern. Do you think you’re up for the task?”

Combeferre thought for a few moments. “How urgent? I’m in the middle of a project now,” he gestures at his dirty overalls, “but I could probably get onto it within a week or so. Preferred models, costs, details?”

“Vague idea myself, you’d best ask her yourself. She’s  staying at the shop until I fix their current ship, just stop by whenever you have the chance. I’d best be off now. Thanks mate.”

“Not a problem.”

 

***

Combeferre looks at him in terror when he first lays eyes on Fantine. "Slipped your mind to mention it was _Fantine_ I'd be working for, did it?"

"You're not interested?"

"A little warning would have been nice. Just a slight, _‘oh yes my friend, your client will be a pirate, the most wanted pirate in the seven inhabited galaxies, try not to panic’_. I can see a gun bulge. Feuilly, is she carrying a pistol?"

"Yes." Fantine calls out from where she's perched on the ship, smirking slightly.

"So will you do it?" Feuilly asks, with not a trace of impatience.

“Course I will. Fantine, if you'd like to come down we can discuss specifications. Or I could join you up there," he adds quickly as she thumbed at the pistol through her jacket.

"Oh Combeferre, you're such a dear. Feuilly, do help him up."

***

“Now, do you have a WritePad ready?” Combeferre fumbles for one in his pocket. “Good, I don’t like repeating myself. For the body of the ship, I think I’ll be sticking to the T153 model. Forest of Montreuil wood for the deck panelling, I’ll offer the extra if availability is scarce. The engines are a different matter entirely, though…”

Cosette comes up behind Feuilly, slinging an arm around his neck.

“You’re very bad, for not warning your friend of my mother. I would tickle you until you begged for mercy, but on the other hand, it’s very amusing to watch him squirm. Would you like a JelloBat?”

Feuilly takes and handful from the proffered packet and settles back in as Fantine continues her rapid fire listing.

“I know they’re not exactly rare as rocks like they used to be, but it needs to have solar sails. The ones I have rigged up here are wearing thin and need to be completely replaced. Cosette can use them for her solar boarding, but anything larger for any longer and they simply won’t hold up.   
“The back engine will need to be recycled. I keep on good terms with the sentience within it, you see, and as such need to keep a hold of her.”

“H-Her?” Combeferre’s confusion was understandable; sentience’s were usually an ‘it’, or a ‘they’ at the most.

“Yes, _her_. Favourite was, well, not quite a dear when I knew her, but she’s close enough now.” Combeferre’s adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed and quickly continued scribbling instructions down.

***

After the shipbuilder left, Cosette was afforded some alone time. Swinging past her cabin to grab her SolarBoard, she made her way to the closest market. The AlphaStation had expanded a great deal since her first visit, and she barely had to travel 300 gammars before she came across a market place. She stops quickly to pick up more JelloBats and a recharge cell for her board, lest she get stranded at an empty construction site.

Again.

In her peripheral vision she spots a familiar figure in the crowd, but she allows him to follow. An audience never hurt, and while she wasn’t fond of showing off, per-say, perhaps she could...seduce him by means of high-risk solar boarding.

A recipe for success.

He follows her all the way to a currently closed construction site, where she starts up her board and begins to practice. The circuit she sets out on is reasonably easy, mostly agility practice. Mama wouldn’t be too happy about her flying through the brief spaces in a slow-turning grinder, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

The boy hides behind a pillar at the far end of the site, ducking his head around to watch her whenever he thinks she can’t see him. It’s adorably endearing, and she can’t help but add a little extra flair to every quick hairpin turn she does.

Which is when it all goes wrong.

The tell-tale sirens of Governs are behind her, two robotic police playing catch-up as she forgets about the boy hiding behind a pillar for a long moment and tries her hardest to get away. There was a reason she was practicing agility though, and before too long each has a firm grip on one of her arms, bringing her in to land.

The cool electricity of handcuffs slides around her wrists and she know’s one thing for certain; she’s _fucked._

Marius chooses that moment for his grand introduction.

“Hello, good evening officers, I hate to interrupt, but my name is Marius Pontmercy, and as a training lawyer I’d like to point out all the potential legal problems with the arrest you’ve just made--presumed arrest anyway, since you never...”

He launches into a short spiel, and the officers let go of her long enough for Cosette to get ahold of the dirty gun tucked into her back pocket for emergencies. A quick turn and some risky shots later, two decommissioned robots are lying on the ground in front of her and the lawyer-to-be is looking dazed and ever so slightly terrified.

It is in fact the boy from the other day, and she preens under his attention.

“H-Hello there. My name is Marius, although you might have heard that before.”

“I did indeed. My own is Cosette, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. Properly, this time.”

He seemed to sigh into himself, as though mesmerised by the very action of her talking. “What was it like up there, flying that..that thing?”

She thought for a moment. “It’s...It’s like silken stardust running over your skin with every particle flashing around you, the purple and green and super-fluorescent tones of the nebulas like candy on your tongue as your ride through them. The higher you go, the more the stars want to consume you and for you to consume them right back. It’s quite beautiful, really. And while it is lovely to see you again, Marius, might I recommend evasive action, considering the two essentially dead officers at our feet?"

Marius jumps, seemingly forgetting what was in front of him.

"Join me on my board, it’s the fastest way out.”

Join he does indeed, delicately trying to keep his hands to himself before Cosette roughly yanks them around her waist.

“Hold tight, don’t want you falling off into the cosmo like my last boyfriend." That was a lie, she'd never had a special friend of any sort before. However, Cosette was a pirate and pirates were permitted to lie, except to their mothers.

She took him to Feuilly's workshop, for lack of a better location. Well, that inter-mingled with the panic she tried to quash that always came when dealing with Governs. Despite the fluttery high feeling of her heartbeat, like the robot dove she'd been given as a child, she was never more joyous than she was scared. A home was always what she needed went she felt like that, and to a home she went.

The shop was quiet when they landed.

Marius stumbles off her board, managing to pull a pod-device out of his pocket as he does so.

He fumbles out apologises and times and _thank-you_ ’s Cosette barely understands a word to, only laughs lightly and promises to see him again sometime. Before too long a small transit ship is docking and he’s waving goodbye, gone as soon as quickly as she had spotted him.

***

A bottle passes between three solemn figures basking on the deck of the ship. The sky is the bright red of the artificial sunset, RatBats screeching overhead as they left their nests to hunt.

“To the mighty Lark, may she live on in our hearts and in our souls and in the floorboards of the lovely new ship your friend is building us.” Fantine cries, and Cosette and Feuilly follow suit.

“To The Lark!”

That night is the final night spent on the ship, an unlikely family and their just as unlikely friend in quiet grief.


End file.
